Bedlam's Hunt Clueless By Night II
by Gawaine
Summary: Harry survived a vampiric Weasley, but will he survive a Great Hunt on the streets of London?
1. Prologue

**Clueless By Night 2 : Bedlam's Hunt**

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. In addition, this particular fic is inspired by multitudes of modern fantasy fiction and games, but without a direct cross-over or direct use of material from any of them. The planned sequels are not cross-overs to any particular TV show or game, but I won't completely rule them out for the far future.

**A/N:** If you haven't already read Clueless By Night, available from , please do! This will make even less sense if you haven't read it.

**Prologue**

Tuireann stood on a ledge, high above London. He was tall, his frame as muscled as a weight-lifter, made all the more impressive by his more than two meters of height. His skin was a mottled gray which matched both the stone behind him and the neutral color of his boots, trousers, and shirt. As he walked partly in front of the large clock face that towered above him, his skin shifted slightly, and his clothes turned white to match the face. Passers-by beneath would have trouble seeing anything but a faint blur, something easily dismissed as a figment of their own imagination. Some would still look up, though, and shiver, sensing that there was a hunter among them. 

Tuireann couldn't see his quarry from here, but he could smell her. She was one of the last of those that he had been set to kill, one of the few that hadn't just left the United Kingdom altogether. Her smell was sickly sweet to him, which stood out starkly against the dark industrial smell of the city. She was not far, perhaps a few miles from him. He wouldn't have any trouble tracking her.

He could probably bring her to his master tonight, but that would show a certain lack of style. It was only a few days before the Great Hunt, after all, and she would make an ideal quarry then. Perhaps he should just spend the next few days making sure that she knew that she was prey.

* * *

Harry walked Hermione back to her flat. The doctors had taken almost a week to release her, and he'd stayed by her bed most of the time, despite her insistence that he should go home and get some rest.

"Harry, I'll be fine from here," she said, as they left Diagon Alley. "Really. The elves will go bonkers if you show up, and I don't have the energy to deal with them."

"I'll settle them down, Hermione. Or I won't come in. Just let me walk you to your door."

She bit her lip, and played with her hair, but she didn't protest anymore.

They walked together, mostly in silence. Harry's hands were by his side, hers were in the pocket of the parka that she was wearing in the late London fall. She seemed to be looking down or away.

"Is something bothering you?" Harry asked.

"It's nothing," she said, but her tone wasn't convincing. "I just think you're making too much of a fuss over me."

"Hermione, I couldn't make too much of a fuss." He saw her face turning red.

Harry hadn't told her how he felt in words, but he thought it was probably obvious from the way that he was hanging on her every word, meeting her eyes at every opportunity, and otherwise making a fool of himself. Unfortunately, she was staying mostly quiet, avoiding his eyes, and generally acting very sober. He didn't think that was a good sign. 

"So," he said, more to break the silence than anything else, "have you heard from Viktor lately?"

She nodded, "Yes, he wrote me last week. He was really shaken up after the battle at Hogwarts, you know, and he'd withdrawn from the whole Wizarding World. The last I heard, he'd changed his name to Robert and moved to the states."

"Robert, eh? So what's he doing if he isn't playing Quidditch?"

"Apparently, he's some sort of physical trainer. I hear he's even dyeing his hair."

"Really," Harry responded. There was silence again, but Hermione's flat was up ahead.

She looked at it, and then back at Harry. "Really, Harry, I can take it from here." She looked almost alarmed.

"Nonsense," he said, puzzled, "I can't just leave you. You were almost killed." Some sixth sense was warning him. There was something close by, something that was bothering him.

She sounded panicked, "Really, Harry, you aren't going to stay here with me forever."

"No, but I need to talk to you about..." Something was coming, he could hear it.

"About what, Harry?"

A car whipped up from behind him, and pulled into a parking spot on the side of the road. It was a lime green European car, a little three wheeler that he thought could possibly fit two people if they were very, very friendly house elves. A man jumped out of the car. He was wearing a navy blue peacoat over Muggle clothes, khakis and a blue shirt. He was looking straight at Hermione.

"Look out!" Harry snapped, and he reached for his wand, but Hermione clamped down on his hand.

"No, it's okay, Harry. He's a friend of mine."

The man called to her "Hermy!" He ran up to her, wrapping her in his arms, and twirled her around. "I was so worried about you. Your cousin Potsy, answered the phone when I called to confirm our date last week, and told me you'd been hurt, but she wouldn't tell me which Hospital you were in." He finally seemed to notice that Harry was there. "Oh, I'm sorry, am I interrupting anything?"

"No, Jack," Hermione replied, "this is my friend Harry, from school. He was just making sure that I got back home from the Hospital alright." She turned to Harry. "Thank you, Harry. I think I'll be okay from here."

Stunned, Harry stammered his reply, "Fine, of course, Hermione. I'm sure I'll see you again." He turned, and started to walk the other way, swiftly. He didn't look back once. He was afraid that she'd see the stricken look on his face.

* * *

"It's about time you got here," Draco said to Ron, the annoyance in his voice not quite masking his relief at seeing his schoolmate. He was seated at his desk, trying to look composed, despite the slightly charred corpse on the floor. His wand was in the pocket of one of the other investigating Aurors. A breeze wafted through the empty window frames behind him, which had been criss-crossed with Spellotape to keep anyone from walking out of them.

"What, you couldn't handle things without me?" Ron joked back, but he looked concerned. "Look, I only just heard. I haven't even gotten the word from the office yet -- someone called Luna's father while we were at his house for high tea. They told him to get a photographer over here fast, and I thought you could use a hand."

"Excellent. It's been almost a year since I've been in the Quiddler, and it will be great to be in there for something other than my alleged intimate relationship with Vincent Crabbe."

"You're not still mad about that, are you? Fred and George had no reason to think that Luna's dad would take them seriously."

"No, I think I've gotten over it. I think today's guest put things in better perspective," Draco said dryly.

"I suppose that's true, although it's hardly news that people are trying to kill you. I certainly tried often enough," Ron admitted earnestly.

"That's probably true, but I never had to resort to the Killing Curse to stop you."

"So, you admit it!" A young Auror spoke up from nearby. Ron recognized him as a recent graduate of Auror training, although Draco couldn't think of his name. 

Draco sighed, "I admit that I used a Killing Curse on that... that thing. But it wasn't a human. Check it yourself. Look at its face."

Ron walked over to the corpse, and flipped it over with his boot, ignoring the protests of the crime scene investigations unit. Looking back up at him was a shining metal skull with small glass orbs in its eye sockets. False skin still clung to the skull around the edges, as did hair, but it was obvious that whatever it had been, it wasn't human.

Ron gestured at the corpse. "I think we can rule out charging Malfoy with homicide this time, unless there's some crime in stopping a machine."

The younger Auror looked at the body in disbelief. Apparently, he had just assumed that Malfoy had been in the wrong, and hadn't even looked at the body before Ron got there. "Surely that thing can't have moved on its own."

Draco nodded. "Moved, and damn near wiped me out. It had a pair of those Muggle guns, and it tried to use them on me. Fortunately, my shield charm seemed to do the trick."

Ron bent on his knees, and reached into the machine's pockets, pulling out a wallet. "Elrond Smith," he read aloud, "of Newark, New Jersey."

The young Auror responded, "New Jersey? As in the States?"

Ron nodded his head. "So, Draco, what have you done to get an American robot on your bad side?"

Draco shrugged, "I'm not sure, but I think it has something to do with my f--" He stopped, unsure if he should share what the machine had said with the audience of Aurors.

Ron asked, "Yes?"

Draco smiled weakly, "With my fabulous face, of course. Probably jealous. He's not much of a looker, is he?"

Ron raised an eyebrow at Draco, a gesture honed by months of training and practice. It was obvious that Malfoy wasn't saying everything.

Draco looked at him sharply, and then flicked his eyes to the eager young Auror, who was standing nearby, listening.

"You're probably right," Ron replied, "it's a good thing you got him before he got around to hunting me." His eyes, intently focused on Draco, made the message clear -- Draco might not tell him everything now, but he couldn't get away with keeping him in the dark forever.


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

Harry was alone on the streets of London, his glasses fogged up with condensed tears. He felt like he'd spent the last three years in a fog, trapped in his routines. He had just come out of the fog, and seen everything that he was missing -- the excitement of the chase, the feeling of being needed, but most importantly, the friendship of someone that he had let grow distant. And that last had been stolen from him as quickly as he'd found it.

He wasn't sure where he was going, or how far he'd walked, but he knew that it had been several hours. He couldn't believe that he had been so blind twice. First, in seeing into himself, in knowing his own feelings for Hermione. Second, in not seeing how unwelcome his attentions were.

The air was moist, the brisk air of late October making him shiver. He had gotten to a section of town that was old and filled with antique brownstones. An old church steeple poked through the fog ahead of him, white stone dirtied by the air. He took off his glasses and cleaned them on his shirt, trying to get the condensation off, but he kept walking. He wasn't actually going anywhere, after all, so it hardly mattered if he could see where he was going.

The streets were empty and dark, the few streetlights in this neighborhood hardly penetrating at all. Harry suddenly had the feeling that he was being watched. It was like there was a gaze penetrating him, going right through him. He heard a howl, no doubt a dog that had been locked out of its home. Harry started to run.

He pushed his glasses back on his nose, and broke into a long, fast gait. He hadn't seen anything dangerous, but the complete eeriness of the late night air had gotten to him. There was probably nothing out there. The dog had stopped howling, it had probably gotten into its home. Probably. But he was still running.

The road ended up ahead in a tee. He rounded the corner to the left, and promptly fell to the ground, next to the person who had been running from the other direction before their collision.

Harry waited for a moment before standing. So did the other person. He looked over at her, their eyes meeting in an electric stare that seemed to last a lifetime. It was the fulfillment of a cliché, that look that was meant to be shared across a crowded room.

Harry got to his feet before she did, and quickly moved to offer her a hand up, which she took without question. He was surprised by how tall she was, standing taller than Ron. Her features were delicate, her cheekbones high. Her hair was straight, falling midway down her back like a scarlet waterfall. She was still looking him straight in his eyes as he helped her up, and for a moment longer. 

"Hello," they both said at once, then she giggled. Her laugh was like the tinkling of tiny bells.

There was another howl in the distance, but it sounded closer, this time. Harry suddenly had no doubt that he did not want to meet the animal that was sounding its displeasure.

"I need to run," she said, her laughter stopping. Her face looked serious, and the look almost made Harry's heart break, the sudden transfiguration of happiness into solid stone.

"I understand," he said. "I'll come with you."

She nodded slightly, and started running again, in the direction of the other arm of the tee. Harry jogged after her, trying to keep pace, although her longer legs kept her ahead of him. He worried momentarily that he was slowing her down, but he didn't think she'd let that happen.

The fog seemed to grow darker, and the streetlights seemed dimmer than they had a moment ago. Harry tried to ignore that, just running behind the woman. They were both breathing hard, but it was strangely in rhythm, inhaling and exhaling in tandem. Their strides made another rhythm, almost in tune, except for a few extra steps that Harry had to take every so often to catch up. No other sounds seemed to penetrate the night besides their strange, collaborative rhythm.

Ahead, a forest loomed. Harry hadn't realized that there was a forest this close to London, which was probably a hint that he'd spent too much of his time on the streets near his home. The forest was fenced in, but the woman ran straight for the fence. Harry followed her blindly, hoping that she'd change direction suddenly, but instead, she seemed to run straight up the side of the wooden fence.

Harry wished that he had his broom with him, but he didn't have time to summon it. Instead, he whipped out his wand and sprayed a rope up and around one of the fence posts, which he quickly climbed. Somehow, he didn't think he needed to worry about her seeing him do magic.

He came down on the other side, and found her waiting for him, but not alone. A pair of horses were there, as well. They were tall and muscular, with tufts of white fur on each of their legs. There was something about their eyes that Harry found odd, something about the way that their pupils were shaped, almost oblong.

The woman seemed to be taking the time to rest, standing next to one of the horses and running her fingers through its mane. She was whispering softly.

Harry walked up to her casually. "So, I didn't take the time to introduce myself there. I'm sorry about bumping into you like that. My name's Harry," he said, and he stuck his hand out.

She turned to him, accepting his hand, but she didn't shake it. She just held it for a moment, her finger seeming to hit on his pulse, which was sounding loudly in his ears. He could feel hers, as well. He thought that was probably a good sign, given the people that he'd been spending time with lately who didn't have a pulse to speak of.

"I'm Meagan," she said, "Meagan Oibrich Raith, at your service." She bowed her head.

Harry wasn't sure why, but he bowed his, as well. When he looked back up, there was a look of mirth in Meagan's eyes. He wondered what she was seeing in his.

"It's good to meet you, Meagan," Harry said back, "I hope I didn't slow you down too much."

"Not at all," she said back, and Harry realized she was still holding his hand. "It was actually a help, if you can believe it. They keep their distance, if they know you aren't alone."

"Who does?"

"The ones who were hunting, tonight," she said, and Harry knew that she meant the ones that were hunting _her_. He gently moved his hand, and she let it go. She seemed almost disappointed.

"Are we safe here?" Harry said in a hush.

"I've made us safe for now, but the hunters will soon bring friends. We must leave this place before they do. I fear that there's no place that is truly safe."

"Where will you go?" Harry asked her.

"I don't know," she shook her head. "I'm alone." The way she said it made it clear that she didn't just mean that she was alone in the woods. There was a desperate sadness behind the words that made it sound final.

He stepped forward, and not thinking, lifted his hand up to her cheek. He had to crane his neck backwards to look in her eyes. "You don't have to be."

"There's danger in what you're offering," she said in a hush. "You don't know how much."

"I think I can guess," Harry replied confidently. This was becoming almost a routine. "I have what one of my friends called a hero thing -- I can't just leave someone in danger."

She looked at him for a moment, another of those moments that seemed to last a lifetime, and then she nodded. "We will need to leave London. They will grow weaker as we draw them from their home, although I will, as well."

Harry asked, "Where do you want to go?"

"I don't know," she said quietly. "But we'll have to go soon."

"We could go to my flat in London," Harry said, but he frowned. They'd have to go back through the hunters to get there. And, he still hadn't had a chance to repair the hole in his wall, or get rid of the clothes left by the vampire who had made it.

She shook her head. "That won't work."

"There's Hogwarts," he said, "but I can't get us there directly. We'd have to follow the railroad tracks."

The horses both rose up on their hind legs, snorting and whinnying madly. They came back down, looking at him with what looked like hatred.

"Right, then, not Hogwarts. I can't go to the Burrow, I can't bring hunters to them, and they've been through enough. And Ron's flat won't work either, although Luna might scare them off. But there is one place..."

"Whatever it is, we'll have to try it," she said. "We've run out of time."

Harry heard scratching against the fence, and a sound like a dozen jaws snapping shut. "Sounds like Fluffy," he said. She looked at him, cocking her head. "A dog a friend of mine used to have."

"It sounds like you have some rather interesting friends," she said, as she helped him mount one of the horses. The horses had no bridles, no saddles, not even a blanket, and she fixed his hands firmly on the horse's mane.

"You have no idea," he said, "just don't judge them all by the one you're about to meet, alright? Most of them aren't quite as bad as him."

She laughed, "Not exactly the most auspicious way to talk about someone that you're hoping will keep us safe. Does your friend know what you think of him?"

"I think so," Harry said, "We've told him often enough."

She threw her leg over her horse, and without even a word, both horses sprang into action. "Just whisper your directions into his ear, once we're out of the park. He'll get us there."

Her confidence wasn't something he could argue with. Once they were out of the park, he leaned over, whispering as close as he could to the horse's ear, although he could only reach halfway up the massive horse's neck. "Take the next road north. We're going to Malfoy Mansion."


End file.
